etrayalogs | MISSION 005 (part 1)

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MISSION 005 (part 1)

WHO: Everyone!
WHEN: September 13th-September 27th
WHERE: Throughout Etraya
WHAT: Mission Log!
NOTES\WARNINGS: Horror elements, including fear-inducing landscapes, distorted environments, unseen predators, mental/emotional distress, potential body horror, corruption, possession, brainwashing, and compulsion.

⏵ reality bends ⏴
A strange anomaly has overtaken Etraya. The skies, once familiar, now shift unpredictably, cycling through hues of unnatural colors as an eerie hum fills the air. Tension crackles beneath the surface, leaving an unsettling heaviness across the land. Aurora’s mission announcement offers little clarity—more cryptic than comforting—and she remains unavailable for further explanation.

Reality begins to warp, twisting Etraya into a surreal, haunting reflection of its former self.

The hospital deteriorates into a decaying structure, its halls haunted by phantom patients, endless corridors leading to nowhere. Rooms morph into massive white padded cells where characters may find themselves imprisoned, alone with spectral figures who whisper of treatments yet to come. Some of these apparitions seek the attention of those roaming the hospital, warning them of a dire fate: failure in this mission means not just the death of their worlds, but their souls becoming trapped in this fractured reality, far from home, forever.

The forest transforms into a dark and twisted labyrinth. The trees close in, their branches twisting unnaturally as unseen predators howl from the shadows. Narrow pathways wind through the maze, and while some may navigate unscathed, others will be violently pulled into the depths by horrors lurking just out of sight. Within this twisted forest, a small cottage appears, its walls echoing eerie whispers: "little scorpion," "selfish bitch," and "by the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes."

The rivers, usually calm, have become a dangerous, volatile force. Their waters churn violently, and inky black tendrils rise from the depths, lashing out at anyone who strays too close. These dark appendages drag their victims beneath the surface, where those who resist must battle their way to freedom. But those who surrender will be drawn into an otherworldly dome beneath the water, surrounded by strange fish, far from where they should be. Inside, they will find an eerie stillness, but their earpieces still allow contact with the world above. A large mirror dominates the dome, offering an uncertain way back.

⏵ shadowy haunts ⏴
Those inside the zones come face to face with an echo of fear - a personalized manifestation of what scares them most. It could be an oppressive figure from their past, or something more abstract, such as the feeling of failure, or isolation. These echoes are relentless, feeding off their weaknesses and digging into what makes them most vulnerable.

The Im'mari hungers, and preying on characters' weaknesses appears to be its chosen way of feeding itself. While characters may become stuck in their nightmares by themselves, some of these nightmares are shared between companions. Characters may become trapped within their friends' fears, or strangers'. However, the emotional distress felt by the individual the nightmare belongs to will affect everyone within the nightmare. An emotional prison built to torment those whom it belongs to, these echoes of fears may test the bond between companions, forcing them to face truths they may have rather avoided touching on. Earpieces will still be functional and may prove to be crucial in assisting characters when it comes to escaping their nightmares.

⏵ contamination ⏴
Im'mari may be weaker than before, but it is slowly regaining power, and the creature’s influence is spreading. It infects the wolves, the plants, and even the very essence of Vanessa Ives (and in addition, Aelwyn Abernant), feeding off the deep-seated fears of those around it.

Im'mari thrives in the shadows of fear and darkness, growing stronger with every moment of doubt, pain, and despair. Its presence lingers beyond the edges of awareness, whispering to its victims, urging them to succumb. Through Vanessa and those she has infected, Im'mari extends its reach, turning once-familiar faces into agents of fear, pushing their companions to the brink.

For those who fall under its sway, the transformation is slow, at first nearly undetectable. Perhaps a friend acts off, says something out of character, or expresses sudden, unprovoked anger. But as Im'mari’s power grows, so does the darkness in its agents, until they are no longer themselves—twisted into something monstrous, compelled to spread fear and destruction.

Welcome to your nightmares. We hope you have a pleasant stay.

⏵ NOTES ⏴

For all questions relating to this mission, please refer to the plotting post. We will be utilizing this post throughout the mission - including when we process the next round of applications, so please keep an eye out for new comments! All other questions can be directed to the FAQ.

⏵FULL NAVIGATION⏴

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

"Padmé?"

A voice speak, familiar, and its source not far off: Gorgug, who seems to have found himself in this space with the cottage, standing still after speaking out her name. He does take a few tentative steps forward, but without approaching either of the pair, glancing between them.

There are better questions to ask, better actions to surely take, but something about this moment, the twisted dark energy of it...

"What are you afraid of?" He asks--a question that either of them could answer. A piece of Im'mari lurking underneath his skin; a potential aid to the dark Padmé, if he can't keep his thoughts straight.

[Part of her process between what she did to Victoria and finding herself in the Birdcage was learning that she couldn't fix it. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn't make things go back to the way they were before. She didn't save Victoria, she doomed her. Violated her in a way she'll never forgive herself for, and that Victoria will never forgive her for either.

It was an easy way of rationalizing what she really feared. Fixing it. Dealing with the consequences of what she'd done. On a subconscious level, she wouldn't have been able to make herself face up to that harsh reality. Not even for the only person she's ever loved.

If she were a brave person - a kind person - she'd make Krouse face up to it like she couldn't. She'd tell him he has to let go.

She's not brave. She's not kind. She's not good. In all her miserable life that has been made abundantly clear.

This is going to hurt them both. That's the point of it. That's the point of... "Coil" suggesting it. Krouse knows it, she knows it.

She flexes her fingers.

It's too late. They both made their choice.]

Sure. [She murmurs. Like "Coil" won't be able to hear every word she says. What does that even mean? Her back? Against who? She doesn't ask.] I still have next to no idea what I'm walking into. But thanks. [She thinks.]

[ She's the one with the super genius powers. She's even back at her old base. She should be in her element, shouldn't she?

When Tattletale looks at the phone, her grin widens. Behind her mask, her eyes tighten. It's like the smile is reaching her eyes. It's nothing like that. It's like she's in pain. ]

It's the boss. Could have been your boss.

[ Don't you see how good her offer was, Amy? ]

I don't really have a lot to say to him, is the thing. [ With a touch of pride, as if that makes up for her fear: ] Did you hear that I killed him? I'm guessing Trickster didn't tell you. [ Typical. ] He's got no idea what a favor I did him.

[ The shadows in the room shift. Behind Tattletale is a person with one arm and a head tilted at an inhuman angle. Behind Amy is something with too many arms, too many heads. ]

[ While Trickster - Krouse - Francis spills his feelings like his girlfriend's vomit, Tattletale nearly tells him to stop. She nearly tells him to stop almost a dozen times, coming especially close when he calls her Lisa, as if that isn't just a different character she plays sometimes.

She doesn't say anything. Instead, she takes her cot's single pillow, and she curls up around it, burying her face into the polyester filling. By the time he's finished speaking, there are two wet rings impressed upon the pillow, in the exact shape of the slits of her domino mask.

Noelle was smart, and she was driven, and she was Krouse's, and she wanted to kill herself. It's not like Tattletale never noticed the similarities before. But it's different, when someone lays it all out like that, without even a trace of malice or irony to soften the blow.

It would have been cool if Tattletale could have saved Echidna. But she couldn't even save one of them.

Trickster didn't ask her if she knows what Taylor wants. Probably because he knows that's a stupid question. She's always known what Taylor wanted. And at the end, after she destroyed herself, she still wanted everyone to work together. ]

Taylor wanted to die, too. She wanted to kill herself.

[ Lisa once told Taylor she could never tell any of this to a therapist, and she certainly couldn't tell any of this to Taylor. But Krouse isn't a therapist, and he definitely isn't her. He's going to really fucking hate hearing this, and maybe that's why Tattletale keeps talking. ]

I knew that because my older brother did that. Hanged himself when I was fifteen. I found him, and - and it was my fault, because I didn't see it coming.

So I had to keep Taylor alive. That was the whole point of Tattletale - of me. I had the power to see it coming. I tried to give her everything she needed.

[ She smiles again, small and funny, and her voice goes soft. ]

I gave her the whole world, Trickster. You should have seen us. Cauldron was bowing at our feet. And it still didn't work.

I didn't give up. I ran out of options. So tell me, since apparently you know so much about fixing things, what the fuck am I supposed to do now?

The irritated look is unexpected. He's never seen Loki do anything other than smile at him, but everyone gets upset about things now and again, and he knows Loki can't be different in that regard. Although he gets the sense that Loki would rather be alone, Hob doesn't actually want to be alone, so he accepts and steps inside.

"Thank you. It feels like there's something strange in the air lately. Sounds weird, I'm sure. I got into.. an argument with someone and.. it was very unlike me to behave that way. I don't know what came over me."

A sigh. "Sorry, I dumped all that and I've barely stepped through your front door. Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

[She looks at Lisa, then at the phone. She shrugs. Figures. Some of the details of how she got here, what came before, it frays at the edges of her mind. But she remembers her encounter with Krouse.

With Coil. She doesn't want to see him again either. So she moves closer, standing opposite her and resting her back against the wall.

She doesn't reach for the phone.] Is now the time where I deliver an extended speech about how murder is never the answer? Or say that if you kill him, you'll be just like him? Is that appropriately sanctimonious and annoying?

[The limbs behind Amy, a neverending cascade of flesh, they shift. She tries not to look at this reflection of Taylor. Even when it feels like it's staring straight at her. Thinking of the doll still sends shivers up her spine.]

He set you up with the bank robbery. Where we fist "met."

Edited 2024-09-29 15:55 (UTC)

Midoriya wants to apologize to Coil about not being clear: He doesn't give a damn about Coil's other appointments, and he wants to leave the premises with Krouse entirely never to return. He has the challenging look of a small dog that acts like it can take on one much larger in size. He's had encounters with Villains who preferred not to start a fight but nevertheless had their safeties off. Most of what Midoriya has learned about body language can become moot.

However, Midoriya is inclined to concede to Krouse's wishes. Krouse does not feel safe, Midoriya wants to change that, and he should watch himself as much as Coil. He's reminded of Eri and of how only by encouraging her agency did she feel brave enough to take steps for herself.

Being in a dream (nightmare), Midoriya accepts inconsistencies and things not explained by someone's Quirk more easily than he would in waking. Looking at Coil over his shoulder, Danger Sense still primed, he steps towards Krouse. As soon as he's in the other room, his eyes dart around looking for alternate exits.

[ One thing is immediately clear to Fabian - this other person understands more of what's going on here than Fabian himself does.

Not that this is a problem to the half-elf. He may be prideful in some ways, but it's better for at least someone to know what's going on in this situation than for neither of them to know. Especially when Fabian has, as he looked around, also realized that he just as unsure about how to leave this situation as he is about how he even got in here in the first place.

So when Linhardt says that, Fabian just nods, apparently not minding just taking that as an order. He's already moving to lift some furniture off the carpet, just so it's easier to move around.

And while he's at that, he can multitask, asking the other: ]

Do you have any idea of what's going on here?

[ Because he sure doesn't! None of this place looks familiar to him in the slightest. But he's pretty sure he saw an odd look pass on the other's face while looking at the papers on the desk, so-- Hopefully he does. Hopefully he knows how they get out of here. ]

Or rather, I mean-- You know a way out, right? That is what this is about, right? [ Please say yes, pal!!! ]

[ At first he doesn't recognize the voice. Sometimes that sort of thing is hard when you don't have anything else to go off, after all - no familiar surroundings, no familiar face. He's just staring at that mask and hearing the voice, and it doesn't register.

.. until it does. It's the laugh, actually. For some reason it's the laugh that slowly makes things click together in Fabian's mind, though the thought of it baffles him so much that he doesn't speak up about it right away. It gives Krouse more time to speak as the half-elf just stares at him with wide eyes, like he's trying to think of what this realization even means about any of this. About the mask, about the place they have found themselves in.

He doesn't know. He can't figure it out. And maybe it's not as important as just getting the hell out of here - wherever here is. Surely nowhere good.

So while Krouse is busy undoing the mask, Fabian steps over towards the other. He wants to grab onto the other's arm, but the fact that they're behind Krouse's head makes that hard, so he instead grabs the other by his collar, tugging him a little closer. (Sorry, bro.) ]

Krouse, what the fuck is going on?

[ BRO. Bro, he's so confused! Fabian doesn't even look angry, despite the way he's holding the other, he just looks-- confused, yes, and maybe also a little desperate to get them out of here. A fact that Krouse isn't really helping with all the vague talk right now. ]

There's no time for-- I don't know, prison roleplay, we have to get the hell out of here! [ IT'S TIME TO GO, DUDE!! IT'S GO TIME!! ]

[ It's overwhelming.

Not that Fabian hasn't been here before. He's stood in the middle of battlegrounds so many times, chaos and destruction all around him. He's used to it - was raised to be used to it.

But this is more than that. The sense that this is an ending hangs so heavily in the air that it feels like he might choke on it, not even realizing that it's because he's feeling what Aerith is feeling, even if these particular surroundings are unfamiliar to him. A battle lost, a world lost, the sense that--

He tears his gaze away from the surroundings and the man in the distance to look at Aerith when she speaks, and it's only in that moment that Fabian noticed the colour on her dress.

The young man gasps, moving to hold onto her, an arm hooked behind her back, like he's worried she might collapse any moment now. ]

Aerith! [ He sounds so hurried, desperate.

Shit, there's no cleric here, is there? He has to hurry up and find one-- ]

Aerith, are you alright?!

[ When Lisa finishes talking, Krouse wonders for a second, a second less split and more dissected on a mortuary slab, if this is what her power feels like. Not as a person on the receiving end, but as the one with this particular shard of an alien intelligence lodged in the brain, feeding a constant stream of unwelcome, unfiltered information into your head.

Because when it clicks, it clicks like a trigger, and he doesn't know how anyone could fucking live like this.

Reggie, his brain supplies, Reggie and Taylor. Her name used to be Sarah, but Sarah couldn't see it coming. Lisa could see it coming and she still couldn't stop it. And no one cares, because Taylor died for them, and they'd rather be alive than have her be alive, and everyone but you would rather she was dead and they weren't. And they don't care how much you loved her, and they don't say her name like you said it, and you burned everything in you like a star going out just so you could watch her die the way you knew would kill you.

And the answer to her question, at first, in the slide of unvibrated currents in the vent and the stale disinfectant in the air and the hum of fluorescent lights like a hospital, like a morgue, like police custody, is: I don't fucking know.

Krouse hunches over, his head hanging. ]

I keep trying to remember how to hate you.

[ He says, and he's thinking, you were fifteen. You were fifteen and you were sixteen and you were seventeen and how were you supposed to fucking know. And but you know that already. And you'll never stop thinking you should have known anyway. ]

I hated you. I hated you so fucking much. I spent every day in my first goddamn cell hating you.

[ His face is wet. He reaches up behind his head and unfastens his mask, peels it off his face with a slight sucking pop, and puts it in his lap. He rubs his nose on his sleeve like a little fucking kid. ]

Because I thought you pulled it off, and I didn't. I thought you - I thought you figured it out. You got out.

[ If they're both willing to keep pretending, the sound he makes is still like a laugh. ]

And I hated her because she was better than me. [ Lisa knows which her. ] Better leader. Better person. Better at - fuck. Long list.

[ He folds his sleeve over his hand and rubs his eyes, one at a time. ]

I don't know what we're supposed to fucking do.

[ He plants his hands beside him and draws his legs up, feet flat on the ground. He pushes forward, up, catching his mask by the eyeholes so it doesn't clatter off his lap on his way off the floor. ]

But I think I know what we're going to do. [ He tells her, quietly. A low battery alarm beeps. ] Unless you've decided you want to prove me right about something, for fucking once, so, hey. Be my guest. Give up. We can be cellblock neighbours. Just like old times.

[ And, quiet shading into something else: ] Come on.

Even in her state, Ava is trained to take in as much detail of her environment as quickly as possible. The place feels far more welcoming than the man himself, though he clearly belongs within it. Feels as if it's used to homing far more people. There's history here, that seems to go well beyond this whole futile exercise they've been drawn into. As if its displaced itself.

She stays aware that she's an outsider, a guest only reluctantly, and keeps her hands to herself by wrapping arms loosely across her midsection. Trying to hide her discomfort at existing within another's territory.

He mentions a spare bed with implications it's hers to borrow, and as much as she longs for it, the escape of sleep with how little she's managed, the threat of the nightmares waiting for her behind closed eyes makes her reluctant to accept.

"Stable?" Ava asks, curious despite it meant to be a deterrent. She hesitates a moment, swiping her tongue over dry cracked lips. She doesn't want to be a further inconvenience, doesn't want to ask for more than she's been offered. But. "Do you have anything to drink?" with a glance off toward the kitchen "... Tea, perhaps?" Maybe that'll help her relax just a bit.

reality bends: welcome to ravenscar

cw for forced institutionalization and solitary confinement; references to needles, electroconvulsive therapy, forced medication; restraints. Also gross bodily fluids.

You have entered the hospital.

The halls stink of bleach. It's as if the staff have looked at the grime that gathers on the baseboards and coats the flickering fluorescents, and decided that the illusion of cleanliness will do in lieu of actual sanitization. There's a sour-sweet smell underneath the chemicals that invade your sinuses, though. Sweat. Piss. Fear. Despair.

Inmates are not allowed in the halls.

The voice scratches out of an unseen PA system. You are being observed. You shouldn't be out here. Maybe you'd better move along before an orderly comes to see what you're doing.

This hall is lined with half a dozen doors. Each one is sturdy metal, equipped with a smaller trapdoor at the bottom, and a window at eye-level that can be covered by a sliding panel. A couple yawn open, revealing padded rooms inside, their lights burnt out and foul messes in their corners. If you peer through the window of one closed door, you'll see a wheeled box covered in dials; a set of wires and pads come out of it and lay across the reclining bed beside it. The bed is equipped with leather restraints. Peer into another and see darkness. Maybe things move in it.

At the end of the hall, the sixth door is closed and locked, the window covered. And a frantic pounding is coming from behind it.

contamination: wouldn't you like to get away

Johanna hasn't been feeling like herself.

Is that true? No. No, it's not. She feels exactly like herself. There's a hollow place behind her sternum that's always been there, shadowy and scared and hissing with hurt. She knows she's a coward, a piss-poor representative of the world she came from, a liability to those around her. Ruin in a trench coat.

What's a self-respecting self-hater to do, when the world is full of fear and darkness?

Go to the pub, of course.

You might see her stalking through the streets on her way to Harry's Hideaway; when she passes through shadow, her eyes glow faintly like a cat's eyeshine. In the bar itself, Johanna leans on the pool table and balances a third empty beer bottle on the rail. If someone catches her eye, she gives them a humorless smile.

"Fancy a game?" She pulls her hair up into a ponytail and turns to pick up a cue. At the edge of her hairline, easy to miss in her dark hair, is a black spiral like a galaxy. "Not like anything else we're doing will help."

[ ooc: Johanna is at stage 2 of infection and very much here to stoke your characters' fears. Feel free to hit me up for a custom starter or wildcard if these settings don't click for you! You can DM, find me at

AdivaCalandia, or check out my plotting comment.

Will match prose or brackets! ]

It's difficult to break eye contact with her other self. Down to her core, she doesn't trust her. Something essential about herself - something she depends on - has been lost in the other woman. She doesn't doubt that her other self would kill her to...

To replace her. To be with Anakin and support...

Padmé cuts off that line of thinking before it can continue and she stumbles into motion, clinging to Fabian's hand. The dark Padmé smirks at them, making no move to follow and yet Padmé can feel her. No matter where she goes in the forest, the other woman is on her heels and whispering in her ear.

"Did... Did you see her?"

Mal. Padmé purposefully ignores the nasty voice heckling her and focuses on her friend instead. Turning towards the sound of Mal's voice, she starts to walk in that direction.

"I'm here. I don't think you're far from me." she continues on until she finds the other woman, relief obvious behind her small smile, "Are you alright?"

They answer at the same time, speaking cryptically:

"Losing him."

"Losing myself."

Padmé, the true Padmé, edges her way to Gorgug's side and breaks eye contact with her darker self. She touches her friend's cheek and looks over him worriedly.

"Gorgug, what's happening?" she can feel the twisted energy seeking to manipulate her, to break her and reform her into the woman wearing black and the blood splatter of another.

Edited 2024-09-29 00:45 (UTC)

Imagine, for a moment, that you're back in your childhood principal's office, have missed several dozen assignments, and just know that you're in deep, deep trouble. Any minute now, an authority figure is about to come along, see how badly you've screwed things up, and bring down the punishments...

... and then inexplicably, there's a duck here. You don't know how the duck got into the office, but it's obviously your fault somehow, and it's only going to make the punishments worse. This long-winded metaphor just about covers the look of sheer confusion and horror that Muriel gives Linhardt!

"I... what?" The encouraging smile goes completely over their head, Muriel isn't very good at picking up on subtlety to begin with, even less so when they're stressed out! "I-I'm sorry, but... you're human, aren't you? You really shouldn't be here! How did you even get in?!"

She can't help a small smile and a shake of her head. Not a single thought for herself.

"I'm fine. This is...well, all of this is a little bit familiar. Kinda in the ol' playbook, you know?"

Evil spirits? Yeah. Bit of a thing for the Jedi.

[ The hallway is narrow, but that's not all it is. It oppresses, pushing down and in like every hallway they never wanted to walk down and walked down anyway. It closes in like bitter disappointment and judgmental eyes, like never good enough and everyone knows now.

It might as well be water to fish. ]

...she's having a bad day.

[ Krouse murmurs back, his pace adjusted to match Amy's shorter legs. They're lagging behind, and that bothers him, but not enough to speed up. They'll get there. There's no not getting there.

Almost as soon as he thinks it, Coil turns a corner, and when they follow, they're standing in front of a reinforced vault door. This isn't where it should be. He's not even surprised.

Coil's long fingers punch in a code Krouse is supposed to know, but somehow always misses the hand out for when it changes. ]

I'll remain outside. [ Coil says, matter of fact. ] I trust you'll conduct yourselves appropriately without direct supervision.

[ Krouse takes off his top hat and hangs it on a metal hook by the door, then unfastens his mask. He sets it to dangle with another hook through one of the eyes and runs his hand through his short hair. ]

I've got it.

[ He says, quietly, as the vault door creaks open. A wave of heated sick animal reek rolls out into the cool hallway, like the breath of a carrion eater panting against skin. A tang of disinfectant underpins it, and the stale air of a dank room underground, and - and for a fucking second, he smells coffee and snow.

He sucks in a sharp inhale through his nose, and it's gone. Coil stands to one side, almost looking patient, if a person didn't know any better. Krouse nods at him, then steps into the dark room past the threshold. He hasn't looked at Amy since they turned the corner. He doesn't look at her now.

A tiny red light flashes rhythmically near the ceiling of the echoing, cavernous space. A low battery alarm beeps. Something slick and huge and heaving with breath shifts at the back, a huddled mound in the gloom. ]

Hey, No'.

[ And his voice is so, so soft for her, this her who isn't her. ]

I brought someone to see you. To see if she can help. Panacea. You remember, we talked about her? Well, it looks like we lucked out. She's on board. We're just going to need to come back there to let her see what she can do. Think you're up for it?

[ The huddled mound shifts, and he knows something is wrong. More wrong. There's something wrong with the shape - there's something missing - ]

They didn't feed me today.

[ The voice is the quiet, scratching voice of a sick teenage girl, creaking with exhaustion and overuse, the wrecked aftermath of screams. Krouse flinches like someone hit him. ]

They said you fucked up.

[ The shape twists in the dark, too many limbs from too many clashing body plans tensing, slithering and scrabbling on concrete. Krouse starts to turn, his face hardened in a bolt of murderous fury. ]

Non fucking negotiable -

[ The vault door swings shut. The shape begins to crawl towards Krouse and Amy, breathing from too many mouths. ]

Again.

[ Krouse turns back around, and freezes.

It's not everything below the waist. He knows that. He's ready for it, the whorls and ripples and bulges of flesh, the drooling mouths, the scattered and disparate eyes, the shapes of crooked spines and misshapen skulls skinned over in bubbling scales and wet red sores and sheets of raw muscle.

It's everything above the waist. Everything that's not above the waist, because there is no waist, and no torso, and no arms in a red hoodie hugged around them, and no head, and no face, and no hollow, dull brown eyes glaring accusation at him. It's Noelle, and she's not there. ]

I told you, [ the mouths say ] I didn't want anyone to fucking look at me!

[ A tentacle slams sideways, making the wall shake. Krouse steps forward, jerked by panic. ]

Noelle -

[ The thing that's Noelle screams, guttural and overwhelming, every mouth ripped open and full of a thousand different teeth. ]

Krouse shuts the door behind them with a quiet click, and he watches Midoriya for a few seconds. Ten, or so.

"Don't even fucking think about it," Krouse says, calmly, stepping away from the door, "Whatever it is you're thinking. Don't. He'll have a countermeasure, and trust me. You really don't want to find out what it is."

Trust me, he says, like they're not standing in the middle of his lies ripped open and peeled back over the raw meat of the truth.

"What do you want?" He asks, standing on the plain, greyish tiles under their feet, not particularly closer to any one thing - the fabric upholstered chairs, the table with a real wood top, the counter along the side of the wall holding notepads and pens and a coffee machine set up. "Make it quick. Like I said. I'm in the middle of something."

He doesn't immediately respond, staring at a wall in what looks like Coil's break room as if willing it to open to an escape route. He's hurt of course that Krouse lied to him; he can't pretend he isn't. But he can deal with that later, he tells himself.

His hands close into fists. His voice trembles but doesn't rise.

"I want to leave, and I want you to come with me. You're not safe here. You don't feel safe here. It would also be helpful," he says as if his heart didn't feel like shattered glass, "if you told me this person's Quirk and any of his countermeasures."

[ Krouse jerks his head up out of his mask, his fingers in the eye holes, and of all the expressions he could have on his face, the one he personally is most surprised to find is a tiny, crooked half-smile, the corners of his eyes crinkled up in something like disbelief. ]

Man, I have no fucking idea what's going on.

[ It's not exactly something he blurts. It's more like something that falls out of him, jostled loose by Fabian's tug on his collar.

He doesn't admit he doesn't fucking know things, as a rule of thumb. But this place is digging it out of him. The people in this place are digging it out of him, this historical truth that's defined so much of the horrorshow his life turned into. He doesn't fucking know. ]

It's not roleplay. This is prison. We're not just walking out. And we've tried pretty much every fucking thing you're going to think of, so just - fuck, man.

[ His smile sticks in place, but the look in his eyes goes sharply stung, his expression all the more bittersweet for it. ]

You're not going to be stuck here. You're not supposed to be here. It'll spit you out, eventually. So relax. Take a breath. I'll explain, all right?

There were several things Krouse was prepared to hear Midoriya say. None of them were that. His eyes widen by a degree inside the eye holes of his red mask, too briefly for the emotion that triggers the reaction to be legible, and then he collapses his face into a shuttered cool confidence that leaves his eyes dark, intent, and almost unreadable.

You're not safe here is one thing. You don't feel safe here is a sucker punch. Not because Krouse isn't intimately aware of that, already, one of those common denials he's not in the habit of indulging - he hasn't felt safe anywhere since he was sixteen, and that's one of the reasons he's made it to eighteen - but because it's so fucking typical of Midoriya to still, for some fucking reason, think that matters.

Krouse takes a breath, deeper than he has to, and when he starts talking again, his voice is half a step less sharp.

"I can't leave yet," he says, and with a tremor that's a little like he's telling some obscure joke, "I'm waiting on the other appointment."

He knows that's almost worse than not giving a reason at all. He'll loop back. Midoriya's request for tactical information comes first, and Krouse has to choose the explanation of the truth that best gets across why Midoriya needs to listen to him.

"As for his Quirk, I don't understand his power completely," Krouse says, simply, "Best version I can give you is that it's a kind of probability pruning. He selects the timeline of events that gives him the best outcome, and he exists in it. He wins. You lose. I can't tell you his countermeasures, because he won't decide what they are until you've decided what you're going to do. And before you start thinking that means acting on impulse helps, it doesn't. You can't beat him unless you stack the deck in a way you don't have time to pull off."

"Or that would be how it worked if he was actually here," he continues, stepping closer to the table, reaching out to touch the back of a chair just - to touch something, real or not, "But he's not. So maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you could beat him. But I don't think it'd change anything, so I don't really see the point."

He digs his gloved fingers into the fabric back of the chair, slightly.

"This is a test," he says, quietly, "It's just another fucking test. And I'm not leaving until I pass, even if you could get me out of here, because - " he breathes in, dryly, barely the impression of a laugh " - I have responsibilities. You understand how it is."

And then, almost like an afterthought: "And you'd just be wasting your time. I'm a little past saving. I'm not sure what part of that isn't clicking for you."

"Debris from the station smashed a few roofs," he clarifies. "Repairs aren't finished yet."

It's not that Fett is completely foreign to repair-work; he knows how to fix starships, weapons, droids—the tools necessary in his line of work. But that's the thing: his line of work had never involved setting down roots. He's spent most of his life living out of his ship. The stone-and-mortar craftsmanship necessary to truly restore what's been destroyed here is entirely outside of his skill set.

So is hosting for that matter. Her question gets a shrug. "There's hot water," he answers brusquely. "No tea."

"Really?" she pulls Mal into a hug nonetheless and looks her over - from head to toe, "I'd say we don't pay them any mind, but if they turn out to be more than spirits..."

It might be nice to know where they are coming from.

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Page 10 of 26

MISSION 005 (part 1)

Shadowy Haunts

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cw: imprisonment, child abuse and exploitation, grief, suicide, brief description of suicide attempt

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echoes of fear 1

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001; the end of the world

cw: imprisonment, child abuse and exploitation, grief, suicide, brief description of suicide attempt

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Johanna Constantine | The Sandman (Netflix) + The City CRAU | OTA

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cw: intentional infliction of starvation, body horror

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